My Immortal
by EtherealShadow
Summary: Sometimes, you succumb to despair. And sometimes, when you have finally found what you seek, it is not what you expected. FORMERLY a songfic to My Immortal.


**FORMERLY songfic to "My Immortal" by Evanescence. Then dear old ff .net went psycho. Please excuse the odd scene jumps as a result of the removal of the lyrics.**

Dislaimer: I do not own J&D. :-)

"Okay, I swear that's the last time I ever, EVER, touch any more stupid Precursor crap!" His words rang in his ears, over and over again.

"Don't worry, Jak! I'll save you before you know it!"

The pain was the first thing that he felt. The instant the world began to make sense again, it exploded into being, making him close his eyes against the stars that clouded his vision. There was no light around him; the air tasted stale, the noxious scent of metal flooded his nostrils. Blindly, he reached out and tried to move around. But before what seemed like only two feet or so, his hand slammed unceremoniously into a wall, cold metal breaking his fragile skin. Sticky wetness dripped down his fingertips, making his hands slip and slide as he tried gingerly again to find the boundaries that closed him in.

"Before you know it!"

He determined all too quickly that he was in a box made of metal, barely large enough to accommodate his lean body. The only opening was a small grate lined with bars that seemed to be placed in a door of the same strong substance.

Voices drifted through said opening, harsh syllables grating against his ears and shattering the fragile silence that encased his world. "…I want the experiments to begin with this one immediately. We have no time to waste." He got the distinct impression that there was someone watching him, a form pressing down heavily upon his consciousness.

"Yes, Baron, of course. Right away," said another voice.

"How do the others fare?"

"We've lost three today, Baron. We have yet to create the perfect Dark Warrior."

"Hm… We will see what happens to this one tonight."

The people retreated away, voices fading. But all too soon they came back. He was taken from his tiny cell by a squadron of guards, beaten until he lapsed into submission, in too much pain to continue on. He choked up blood as he was dragged into a wide, dimly lit room.

Metal. Everything was made of metal. The substance was nothing like the ancient substance of the Precursors; no, this metal was harsh, cold, biting, far different than the malleable metal that was always warm to the touch. He hated this metal.

And it was onto more metal that he was forced, then tied down and left to stare up, terrified, at the whirling contraption that moved into place above him. Faces loomed in and out of his range of view, some interested, others downright cruel.

The second that the machine turned on, the struggled against his bonds, desperate to get away from what he instinctively felt was coming. The unmistakable essence of Dark Eco streamed down towards him, rushing to rush through his body.

A scream of pure pain tore itself from his throat and went on and on, not ceasing. Purplish-black flooded his mind, tinted his vision, stained his blood, bit into his soul and stole something unnamable, irreplaceable from him. Pain lanced through his every being, setting his nerves on fire with the heat of a thousand doses of Red Eco, leaving no part of his body untouched.

Time seemed frozen until the Eco abated, leaving his body trapped in its grasp although it did not continue to flow through him. Slowly, so very, very slowly, the pain subsided until it was only a dim haze in the back of his mind. He struggled his way out of the darkness that tried to pull him down, rebelled against the loss of his consciousness. But the darkness claimed him.

And when he awoke, it was to find himself trembling, shaking so violently that his head rattled and hit the hard metal of the floor, bumps rising all over his flesh. Tears streamed down his face, pooling on the ground, the only warm thing in a world of dead ice.

Come! His mind screamed the words, wishing, willing them to come true. _Where are you? Come! COME!_

His mind screamed the words, wishing, willing them to come true. 

He curled up in a ball on the ground, knees pulled to his chin despite the fact that he lay on his side. The convulsions of his body made it hard to hold on, but he needed something, anything to hold on to, anything warm, anything at all.

I… I'm scared, Dax. Please, I just want to go home…

**

* * *

**

He tossed and turned, lost within the creation of his worn mind, speaking and moaning in his deep sleep. "Dax…"

No one was there to listen.

"Daxter, I'm sorry…"

No voice was there to speak to him, comfort his wildly thrashing form.

"It was an accident… Daxter!"

He shot awake, eyes wide, pupils dilated to the extreme, scanning, searching for something unknown. With a yell, he suddenly started and leapt at the wall, smashing into it headfirst and creating an indention in the cold substance.

Daxter? Where did you go? He looked wildly around him before his eyes focused on a spot opposite of his position but only a few feet away from him. _Turn around! Come get me!_ When the figure did not respond, he threw himself at it, desperate to take hold of it, only to find that it dissipated scant millimeters away from his grasping fingers, leaving his body to connect with the cold metal. Over and over again he reached for his friend, who appeared smaller and smaller each time, back turned, walking away and leaving him in his box.

He looked wildly around him before his eyes focused on a spot opposite of his position but only a few feet away from him. When the figure did not respond, he threw himself at it, desperate to take hold of it, only to find that it dissipated scant millimeters away from his grasping fingers, leaving his body to connect with the cold metal. Over and over again he reached for his friend, who appeared smaller and smaller each time, back turned, walking away and leaving him in his box. 

"COME BACK!" he screamed suddenly as it disappeared, voice cracking and sore within his throat. The figure did not turn.

But still it haunted his mind.

_**

* * *

**_

There was no such thing as time any more. Days melded together, distinguishable only by the arrival of small amounts of food and water and a bath once a week that consisted of a bucket being poured over his head, leaving him colder than ever before. But the bone-numbing cold was of little significance compared to the thing that was beginning to come to life within him.

It was there, growing with each injection of the Dark Eco that coursed through his veins. It lived in him, fed off of him, caused the hate and pain within him to multiply exponentially with each second that it was fed.

He knew that time passed, knew that days, weeks, months must be speeding by. But time held no sway in the world of metal that had taken him into its bowels. And he was too broken to care.

_**

* * *

**_

And still he didn't come. He wasn't coming, this much he knew. It had been too long, too, too, too long. But at least he no longer saw his friend turning his back on him, no longer tried to reach out to his small form. No longer saw him in his dreams. No longer knew anything about him besides the fact that he was someone who was once dear, so very dear to him. No longer truly held him to blame.

No longer even knew his name.

**_

* * *

_**

"Ding ding… Third floor… Body chains, roach food, torture devices!" the small form announced as he arrived at his final destination. He bounded over to the table, climbing up on it with the usual grin on his face. "Hey buddy, you seen any heroes around here?"

He finally looked down, and just as soon wished that he had not. "WOAH… What'd they do to you?" His eyes roamed over his friend's motionless form slowly as his mind tried to absorb every detail of the one that he had been without for so long.

Two years. He showed every second of it.

**_

* * *

_**

He was so different. His face was thin, stretched, drawn taut with pain and hunger. His hair no longer stood as it had before; instead, it fell over his head, swept over his brow and hung limply. And despite the fact that the ottsel jumped on his friend's chest, the slumbering form did not awaken.

Worriedly, he tried desperately to reach his friend. "Jak, it's me… Daxter!" His eyelids flickered open momentarily, and Daxter was frightened by what he saw within them. They were blue, the blue of the deep sea and not the light color of the sky. Behind them was a plate of cold, hard metal, upon which was inscribed all the pain of these last two years.

Despite himself, he started to shake. Precursors know that he had tried to find Jak every moment of the past two years, the one and only thought that had been on his mind. And, just as Samos had always said, when left to do anything on his own, he had failed.

And now he feared that it was too late.

He paused for a moment to remind himself of what he had promised himself that he would do. Over and over he reaffirmed in his mind his promise: never to let his smile fail, no matter what had happened to his friend. Even if he couldn't do much, even if he was not strong enough to save his friend, he would be the Daxter that Jak knew. No problems would ever appear to weigh him down.

"That's a fine hello! I've been crawling around this place risking my tail, literally, to save you! I've been looking for you for two years! Say something, Jak! Just this once!" Desperation crept into his voice.

Those hard blue eyes shot open, his friend straining against his bonds. "I'M GONNA KILL PRAXIS!"

After he got over his fright at his friend's sudden revival, the ottsel clamped his hands over his friend's warm mouth. Jak's breath was labored and his warm breath brushed against his hands. He needed to be let out of here. Thoughts could come later. "Just let me figure out how to open the security locks for your chair so…"

A scream tore itself from Jak's throat as he flexed his muscles, pulling at his bonds so violently that Daxter was thrown from the table. His friend stood, chillingly familiar energy cackling around his body. Skin that had changed color, hair a pure white, horns and deadly nails, black pits for eyes that held no hint of warmth, all confirmed what Daxter already feared.

From his position on the floor, he spoke. "Or ahhh… you could do it…

And as the deadened eyes swung in his direction, as the evil thing before him took a few menacing steps closer, as he cowered in terror, he knew that his Jak was gone forever.


End file.
